


Fading Light

by DawningStar



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Uprising
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 14:25:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawningStar/pseuds/DawningStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of discretion, valor, and stubborn hope.  Yori and Lux crossed paths after the coup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fading Light

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Tron Female Character Ficathon](http://infiniteviking.dreamwidth.org/312710.html), to a prompt by dear_marauder.

The bulk of the data stacks shielded Trace from curious eyes.  She searched the nearest one with swift glances, hands passing and dismissing one labeled hex after another.  

Quiet voices echoed off the high ceiling--the Archivist with the soft tones of long practice, Lux in a higher and slightly nervous pitch.  Trace hoped no one would think to question the reasons Lux might be on edge.  

She hoped with greater force that Lux’s worry was about helping to break the rules, not because she’d decided turning Trace in was a simple way to end her divided sympathies.  

Paranoia was increasingly a survival skill.  Trace sighed inaudibly, reviewed three good excuses and five exit strategies to settle her mind, and moved to the next stack.  The hexes she’d come for had to be somewhere in this section.  

Since Isos had been declared viral, their art and writings and philosophy were highly suspect and under order of deletion, along with any other public records Clu didn’t appreciate.  But Clu’s army had better things to do than fumble around with outdated information storage.  He’d left most of the actual process to the surviving Archivists.  In strict obedience, all headings, crosslinks, references, and search topics remotely related to Iso work had been stripped from the retrieval database.  However, the Archivists, true to their own directives, had kept bumping the actual process of deletion and overwrite so far down the priority list that it tended to fall off the end every cycle.  There were so many other orders to obey.  

The data hexes sat nameless and unsearchable on anonymous storage racks, functionally invisible among many million records.  Not quite forgotten.  

Trace reached in, turned a single hex over in her hand with sad recognition.  She remembered Markis of Arjia and her philosophies of combat.  The Iso warrior had kept up a long correspondence with Tron, long ago, and Trace had tracked the discussions fondly.  

No time for delays.  She slipped the data hex into the highly illegal duplicator resting at her waist and went on searching while the process hummed.  

“No,” Lux said from across the storage room, “that looks almost right, but I need one with a better index.”  

That was a signal to hurry up.  Trace accordingly moved faster.  

One stack over, she had to risk a careful climb up the tall shelves--triggering the automatic lift would give her presence away even quicker than a badly timed fall.  At last she found the familiar encoding of the hex she’d most hoped to find here.  Trace greeted it with a circular caress of her thumb and slid it into the proper slot.  

No more lost records met her eyes at a cursory glance, and she had no more time.  Not this trip.  She just hoped the Archivists would go on setting their own priorities until she found evidence and resources for another search, until as many records as possible were safe.  

A subliminal tremor said the copies were complete.  Trace returned the hex to its high perch, with a pang of regret.  She dropped to the floor, absorbing the sound of impact with bent knees and a balanced landing, and reversed silent steps to put the other hex back as well.  

On the retreat toward an unwatched exit, she could still hear Lux.  “Thank you, yes, that’s perfect.  I really appreciate your taking the time to help me find this.”  

The room rumbled with the movement of the stacks shifting tight together, resuming their secure dense formation.  Historical records didn’t see much use under Clu’s rule, even the ones still open to the general population.  

She walked outside without particular hurry, the better to draw no attention.  No one had seen her with Lux and no one would.  

Always assuming Lux hadn’t scheduled an ambush instead of the planned meet.  

Trace preferred not to assume.  She went far roundabout and established a high vantage with clear lines of sight over the chosen alley instead, hidden from easy view, settling in for a wait with blue circuits shielded.  The copied data gave her a useful pastime, though she didn’t dare look too much at the second hex for fear of distraction she couldn’t afford.  

A white glimmer signaled Lux’s presence below.  She came alone.  No sign of her increasingly more present partner, Kobol, or of suspicious energy traces that meant Clu’s armored Sentries.  That earned wary approval.  Trace swung down on the far side of a building to enter the alley by foot herself, lifted a hand in greeting.  

The return smile was brief and polite.  “I take it you got what you wanted.”  

“I did,” Trace confirmed.  “Well worth the trip.  You may think so too.”  

Lux folded her arms and glanced away, then back in Trace’s direction without actually meeting her eyes.  “This will have to be the last time I help you.”  

An unexpectedly sharp pang gripped Trace at the simple words.  Clu had made even the smallest efforts to resist him a crime with high and well-publicized consequences; since the coup, he didn’t have to pretend subtlety.  Lux was far from the first contact to tell her as much.  A final decision had been inevitable, the way Lux’s tension had increased over the cycles.  

Trace didn’t really have friends to lose anymore.  Somehow it still hurt when a contact cut ties.  

With Lux in particular her misgivings went far beyond the simple loss of a resource.  Anyone’s partner might reasonably worry about the risks Trace sometimes asked of her contacts, but Kobol’s disapproval had too many overtones of command.  

She’d grown skilled at controlling her expression, but Lux already knew enough to need no hints.  “So Kobol’s not as noble as Tron,” she said with a dismissive shrug.  “If Tron were still--but he’s long derezzed and anyone who’d follow him is either dead or too scared to come out of hiding.”  

Trace clamped down hard on her reactions, unwilling to show the depth of that hit.  She’d known Tron far better than Lux realized.  Known and loved.  

She had been Yori, once.  When Tron needed help she had always given everything she could.  When Flynn built the Grid, Yori had advised and argued and supported him.  When Clu was no more than Flynn's latest strange experiment, Yori had offered her friendship.

Now Clu hunted Flynn's new favorites mercilessly.  Friendship meant nothing.  Yori could only be a tool to find and control--a danger to anyone she met, and to everyone who cared about her.

Trace was no one important.  No reason for anyone to remember or report that name.  No reason for Clu to take notice, pay personal attention.  Much safer if she stayed that way.  

Lux went on, nervous justification.  “Kobol wants to keep me safe more than he wants to fight Clu or fight for Clu, and I want to feel safe, Trace.  We’re going to leave Tron City--find someplace out of the way, where Clu’s not looking.”  She leaned casually against the smooth dark wall behind her.  It didn’t hide the way her fingers twitched in restless unease.  

Not many places left on the Grid had slipped Clu’s attention, and Trace couldn’t imagine any would for long.  “Are you sure it’s your safety that motivates him, and not his own?” she couldn’t help asking.  One last effort.  She tried to catch Lux’s reluctant gaze.  

Long ago, Kobol had been a volunteer among the reserves on call for emergencies Security needed extra hands to deal with.  In the confusion of the coup, he’d eventually changed his loyalty to join Clu’s forces, but not fast enough to avoid their disapproval.  The cause of the delay was pure bad luck, Trace suspected, not lingering affection for Users or Isos or Tron.  If Kobol had known which side was winning earlier he’d have made more haste about joining up.  He’d certainly had no qualms about making attempts to gain favor.

Trace’s sources had brought her rumors of the kind of behavior Kobol tried not to show Lux.  His feelings for Lux might be genuine.  That didn’t make him in any way trustworthy.  As missions went, rescuing illegal records from the Archives was low-risk.  Trace might not have accepted Lux’s help if it had been otherwise.  Lux herself probably wouldn’t do anything to hurt a suspected Iso-sympathizer, but what Kobol might do if he found out Lux was still meeting with one...there was no way to predict.  

Lux snorted softly and flung a tired hand upward.  “At this point I hardly care.”  She glared at the wall above Trace.  “Tron’s dead.  The User’s given up on us all.  Our Administrator has made it clear who won and what he’ll do to anyone who disagrees.  I’m tired of choosing sides, waiting for betrayals.  Kobol and I will keep safe together.  It’s better than fighting on and on for no hope at all.”

Survival sounded like a good goal, one Trace could hardly argue with.  She’d been hiding since Tron had disappeared.  If she could keep all her contacts safe, receive no more bad news, hide every single one in places Clu could never find them, she might be able to relax for the first time since the coup.  

Giving up was different.  

Trace had already tried all the facts and arguments she thought had any chance of success.  She nodded her own weary understanding instead.  “I hope you do stay safe, Lux.  I’ve lost too many people to Clu.”  

Caught off guard, Lux blinked in surprise, looked at Trace at last, and smiled--a faint, humorless warrior’s acknowledgement.  

Taking that as a good sign, Trace went on.  “I won’t ask you to fight when you aren’t willing.  But there is one thing I think you might not mind helping me with.”  

Lux raised a curious eyebrow, suspicion present but courteously left unvoiced.  

Under the circumstances Trace thought that was more than fair.  She reached with slow delicate care for the records they’d worked together to retrieve.  “These old files.  They deserve a safe place with someone who values them, too.”  The duplicator had by now produced adequate hexes.  Trace held out one copy of each.  

“Well, if that’s all…”  Wary, Lux stepped forward and accepted them.  She watched Trace for a long moment as if waiting for the next request.  There wasn’t one.  Eventually Lux looked at the hexes instead.  No proper display here, but the encoding on the outside was clear enough, and Trace had checked its accuracy.  

As Lux realized the contents of the second hex, a low gasp escaped her.  Shock pierced her usual controlled expression.  “Yes,” she said, after a moment, voice unsteady.  “Yes, Trace, I’ll protect this.”  

The reaction pleased Trace, though it didn’t surprise her.  Anyone who remembered Tron at all would be happy to see a copy of his practical advice on disk training for beginning and advanced warriors.  

The information on this hex had been banned for a slightly different reason than the mass deletion order on anything to do with Isos.  Clu, like the MCP before him, held a strong disapproval of battle competence outside one’s own loyal forces.  

In the cycles before the coup Tron had always tried to make training available to anyone who wanted to learn, but by and large the Grid had been a safe system.  Programs without the aptitude or inclination for fighting had gotten along just fine focused on their own pursuits.  

Now with Clu enforcing his control, giving programs reason to fight and to run, they were largely untrained and Tron was--missing, missing, not derezzed.  She wouldn’t accept that report, not again, not when he might be counting on her to fight on.  There was no room for despair.  Never again.  

If the right events ever happened to give them an actual chance at taking Clu out, the shot at victory would need programs who still hoped.  But it would need programs who were still alive to hope.  

“I know you will,” Trace said softly.  “Just because we’re hiding doesn’t mean either of us are going to give up on the things Tron stands for.”  

Lux tilted a rueful nod.  “Sometimes I think it would be easier, but...I suppose not.”  

No one had ever listened to Yori, or to Trace, with the same rapt attention the Champion had earned from the Grid.  She’d traded her name for safety and lost the right to speak for him, or for the Isos she had known since their birth.  But she could still do her best to let them speak for themselves.  

There was very little she could offer that Lux would accept.  “Be careful,” Trace told her, as though this were another mission after all.  “Don’t forget to make your contingency plans.”  She hesitated.  “I won’t call you in, but--if you ever need anything, I still owe you a favor or two.”  A dangerous admission and the levels of debt were debatable.  She didn’t believe Lux would use it against her.  

A soft chuckle as Lux tucked the hexes reverently into her armor.  “Be more careful yourself.  I’ll be fine.”  For proof and farewell, Lux took a running leap upward and darted out of sight between slanting walls.  

If Lux did survive until they had a chance, that would be worth losing all her help now.  If Kobol managed not to push the boundaries of her tolerance too far, if Lux kept her cool when he eventually did and stayed out of trouble.  If the chance to make a difference ever came. 

Sometimes Trace regretted the analysis and diagnostic skills that made it so very easy to see the holes in a plan.  

The alley was dark and empty.  Trace turned away.  She had several hundred more copies to make and find homes for. 


End file.
